My Mentor, My Savior
by RSL-WilsonFangirl
Summary: "The Hunger Games were officially eliminated. I was waiting to feel something. Joy? Relief? Instead, there was nothing. I suddenly felt so disconnected from the world around me." Peeta dies during the 74th Hunger Games, Katniss' life is falling apart and the only one left to pick up the pieces and bring Katniss out of the darkness is Haymitch. A Katniss/Haymitch fanfic
1. Chapter 1

"I can still do it. One last kill." Cato spit out, blood dribbling down his chin with a wicked grin. He held Peeta in a vice-grip headlock. I released my arrow into Cato's heart but the sound of the canon told me it was too late. As Cato toppled over the edge of the Cornucopia towards his death, Peeta lay motionless. With a final fearful expression etched onto his face and the odd angle of his head, the baker's son slipped into death as the light left his eyes, extinguishing District 12's hope with it. Everything became a blur. I broke down, sobbing and clinging onto my once ally and friend, wavering on the brink of insanity. I felt rough hands trying to drag me away but I protested with a few well-placed kicks. My body racked with pain and exhaustion, I was vaguely aware of a slight pinch in my arm. As the anesthetic coursed through my veins, the world soon faded to black. I prayed to never wake up.

"Katniss." A voice broke the silence. "Come on sweetheart, please open your eyes."

I begrudgingly acknowledged the voice and stared blankly at my shattered mentor. We were riding back to District 12 in the Capitol hovercraft. Haymitch was looking worriedly at me, the girl on fire. What a joke. My flame had finally gone out. His brows were furrowed with concern, pain and empathy. His unwavering gaze made me shift uncomfortably as I looked away from the same seam-grey eyes we shared. Haymitch audibly sighed.

"It's not your fault," Haymitch said.

Lies. That's all he ever told me. He deceived both me and Peeta, promising that everything would be okay. He was wrong. I felt stupid for putting my faith in a selfish, manipulative drunk. Haymitch was a lying bastard. He promised to save us both, he failed, and I hated him for it.

"You did the best you could. Peeta always put you first, he would be happy-" Haymitch began.

"Don't you dare use his name." I spit out, seething with fury. "Don't act like you know what he wanted or what I need. You promised to save us. You failed as our mentor. You're nothing but a useless drunk!" I couldn't stop the insults, spouting out profanity and tearing Haymitch apart.

He looked taken aback at first, showing signs of pain that soon darkened into anger.

"Fine! Waste away in self-pity. See if I care. Blame me for things that can't be changed and push away one of the few people you have." Haymitch yelled back. He stormed out of the hospital room.

My anger and pain began to fade into numbness. So this is what being a winner feels like, I thought to myself bitterly. All alone. The odds were against me from the start.

There was no ceremony for me when I arrived; perhaps everyone blamed me for Peeta's death. I was too upset to care. Looking around for my family and Gale, everyone was avoiding my gaze. Did they all hate me now? At the center of town, I noticed the new whipping post installed in the center of town and the increase in Peacekeepers, my heart sped up. What happened during the Games? I was escorted by two large peacekeepers to my new house in the Victor's Village. The other 8 houses remained unoccupied, while Haymitch was directly across from me. As I stepped into my new prison I was overwhelmed by the sickly sweet smell of white roses. President Snow. My heart sank, something was terribly wrong.

I was led into a large office. When the doors shut behind me I turned to face the murderous man himself. But then again, I guess I was now a murderer too. When he began to speak, his wicked grin grew larger as he explained District 12's attempt at a rebellion during the games. He explained that the feeble effort had been squashed and that a few select people served as a warning to everyone else. I suddenly realized why no one would make eye contact, why my family wasn't waiting for me when I arrived home.

President Snow's wicked eyes gleamed as he saw me make the connections in my head.

"No," I whispered, almost inaudible. "Gale? Prim?"

My suspicions were confirmed by his malicious expression and I fell to the floor. The final bit of my resolve shattered. President Snow had finally broken the girl on fire. I crumpled to the ground in a pathetic heap as I was left alone and sobbed for hours until my throat and chest protested in pain. Peeta had died in the Games, my family and Gale were killed and I had pushed away the final person I had, Haymitch. Worn out and waiting for my suffering to grant me death, I was vaguely aware of the sound of my front door opening and slamming shut.

My heart sped up. Perhaps Snow had come to help end my misery. I made no attempt to move.

"Katniss?" a worried and hoarse voice called out. Haymitch? What was he doing here? I heard his footsteps come closer, the door to the office open as he breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of me.

"Thank God." He said. He scooped me up from the floor. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm so sorry." He repeated. For once, I think he meant it. But I was too broken to care anymore. His strong, safe arms wrapped around me as he carried me to my room. He carefully laid me down on my bed, made sure I was settled and began to leave. An involuntary whimper escaped me as he looked back concerned. Perhaps I was afraid that if he left, he wouldn't return either.

"Please, don't leave. I can't lose you too." I should've been embarrassed by my childish behavior, but the last thing I wanted right now was to be alone.

"I know. I'm not leaving, just grabbing a spare blanket and pillow." Haymitch replied gently.

He returned and began to get comfortable in a wooden rocking chair next to my bed. My brow furrowed in concern.

"You can't sleep there. You'll barely be able to move in the morning." I pointed out.

Haymitch waved away my concern, "I'll be fine. You need some sleep." I started to protest, but Haymitch cut me off. "Enough Katniss, I'll survive. Now close your eyes and go to sleep." I struggled to stay awake, making sure he wasn't going to leave. He calmly held my gaze while my eyelids grew heavy and I slipped off into a fitful sleep.

_As Katniss fell asleep, Haymitch paused, contemplating on what he should do, before he left to return back to his own prison. He wasn't ready to do this, Katniss needed someone better than him. Peeta was who she needed. Haymitch needed a drink. Ignoring feelings of guilt he went to drown his freshly horrific memories into his reliable booze._


	2. Chapter 2

When I woke up, I realized two things. One, Prim, Gale, Peeta and my mother were dead. Two, I was completely and utterly alone. The blanket and pillow rested unused on the rocking chair. Haymitch had left me.

Angry tears escaped my eyes. Fine, I didn't need him. What use has he been for me up to this point? All he's done is help me lose everyone I ever cared about. I got out of bed and looked at my unrecognizable reflection staring back. I had lost a lot of weight in the arena and had not eaten since I was pronounced the winner. My once beautiful and youthful skin now looked sunken and there were dark circles under my red, puffy eyes. The spark once held in my eyes had now been replaced by a hollow, hopeless darkness. The innocent girl from the seam had been corrupted; I was now staring at the reflection of a cold-blooded killer. In a swift moment, the glass shattered, my knuckles bleeding from the force of colliding with the mirror. The pain was the only way to know that I was alive. Pain was all that I had left. I walked downstairs to find a fully stocked bar in the fridge. At least the Capital was good for something. Grabbing a large bottle from the front, I popped the cork and swallowed the sickening brown liquid, welcoming the burning sensation. If Haymitch taught me one thing, it was to solve my problems with drinking.

I collapsed on the couch, nearly empty bottle in hand and began to mourn for all those I had lost. Prim, Gale and even Peeta. The alcohol kicked in and I was soon consumed by my nightmares.

This is how Haymitch found me. Bloody knuckles with deep gashes and reeking of alcohol. "Shit, Katniss!" he exclaimed as he walked into my house a few hours later. I barely stirred as Haymitch washed and bandaged my hands, worry etched across his face. When I finally woke up, Haymitch was standing over me with a concerned yet angry expression.

"What the hell were you thinking Katniss? Your body can't tolerate all that alcohol. You'll kill yourself if you keep that up." Haymitch fumed.

"Like you even care." I scoffed. "I'm surprised you even came back, after you left to get drunk."

Haymitch sighed. Katniss was hard enough to deal with when she was sober, probably impossible when intoxicated. He knew nothing he said right now would get through to her. Instead he embraced her in a gentle hug. She didn't return the gesture, but she didn't pull away either. _Well, it's a start_, Haymitch thought. However, the moment was soon interrupted as Katniss' body began to lurch and she threw up the contents of alcohol which splattered against her mentor's light blue dress shirt. The last thing Katniss remembered was Haymitch spouting profanity.

I woke up feeling terrible with a horrible headache and my stomach still upset from the fill of alcohol. The smell of freshly-made bacon and eggs pulled me out of my thoughts. _What? Who's cooking?_

My question was answered when I walked downstairs to find Haymitch whistling happily while making sizzling crisp bacon and scrambling eggs. Haymitch turned around at the sound of my footsteps and set breakfast on the table.

"Morning sweetheart." He said a bit too sweetly. _Perhaps he's still upset about me throwing up on him last night_. Haymitch set down the plates a bit forcefully and says in a louder voice, "How's that hangover treating you?" He asks with a knowing smile. His grating voice made my pounding head ache even more. _Jerk. It's not like I messed up his fancy shirt on purpose_.

I don't respond. We both sit down and eat our meal in silence. Well Haymitch eats while I simply push the food around on my plate and stare blankly out the window. He either doesn't notice or pretends not to. When he finishes, I wash both of our plates then go lay down on the couch. He spends a few minutes awkwardly trying to make casual conversation but gives up when I don't join in. He sighs, promising to drop by in a few hours and leaves.

I grab the opened bottle from last night and finish the remains. The tears that were building up are finally let loose. I yell out in a drunken rage as I mourn all those that were taken from me: Prim, my mother, Gale and Peeta. The only person I have left is Haymitch and it seems that even he is getting fed up with me. I throw the empty bottle at my unlit fireplace and watch as it shatters beyond repair, just like me. I close my eyes and hope that I will be reunited with my family and friends soon.

This is the dysfunctional and destructive routine I settled into. Each day Haymitch would check up on me, clean up my mess from the previous night and attempt to get food into my system. I would ignore Haymitch's attempts to help me heal, waiting for him to give up on me and just let me die in peace. However, his stubbornness matched mine. When he left each night, promising to return again, I would drown my own sorrows with my liquid salvation, always on an empty stomach. I barely ate, only when he forced me to and often just hiding the food in my napkin. I was dying and we both knew it. I had given up on life and was waiting for its merciful end. The girl on fire was withering away.

However, when I had given up on hope, the Districts had found their own. During Haymitch's visits, he informed me that tension between the Capitol and the 12 districts had been building for some time. Even though 12's initial attempts failed, other successful districts came to our aid and the Capitol was finally overthrown. President Snow was assassinated and a democratic government was put in its place. The Hunger Games were officially eliminated. I was waiting to feel something. Joy? Relief? Instead, there was nothing. I suddenly felt so disconnected from the world around me. A world that Haymitch was so determined to bring me back to. But, why?

Tonight, I was going to die. Since I'd returned home a few months ago, I had dropped 20lbs, and I was already an underfed Seam kid. The physical abuse of my body was taking its toll; my motor systems were starting to fail. I lay collapsed on the floor, too weak and exhausted to move as I coughed up the blood that was dribbling from my mouth. This reminded me so much of Cato moments before I killed him. How ironic. Everything comes full circle in the end, doesn't it? I let out a final sigh and closed my eyes for what I hoped to be the last time.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm weightless, flying even. Care-free and painless, did I finally make it to the other side? I'm pulled out of my thoughts by a sudden shaking. An earthquake? I then hear the soft whispering of my name. Prim. I look around hopefully, as the voice gets louder, gruffer and more urgent "Katniss!". The bright lights make me squint as my eyes adjust and I take in my surroundings. I'm hooked up to some IV's, probably for the dehydration and I see empty syringes next to my bedside. It must be the drugs that made me feel so good. I'm not in heaven, or even hell, and I don't see Prim's innocent blue eyes looking at me. Instead I'm faced with the disheveled appearance of my mentor. As I look at his features, I see deep wrinkles that he didn't use to have, and his light blonde hair showing signs of whiteness. Is this because of me? Feelings of guilt soon overtake me. His seam-grey eyes, matching mine, look searchingly at me for some kind of answer. He audibly sighs. This once cocky, strong-headed mentor has turned into a lost, broken man.

"Thank God." He mumbled. He scratched the back of his head, uncertain of what to do. After a few moments, he broke the silence.

His voice a bit stronger and more authoritative, "Right. Well, things are changing around here. You'll be staying with me until further notice, this is nonnegotiable." He looked at me with a hard stare, letting me know that his decision was final. "I've gotten in contact with the Capitol's best therapist Dr. Aurelius, and he has prescribed you anti-depressants, that you will take every day, no exceptions. You will also be taking weekly therapy sessions, either by phone or in person."

He waited for me to retort, argue or yell. But the fight within me had long vanished. My silence seemed to only trouble him more and his eyes softened.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I was in denial about your health; I hoped that you were getting better. I was being a selfish bastard and I couldn't face you. You were a reminder of my failures and all the damage that I've done." His voice broke. "But I will not leave you this time. This, I promise you."

After the sentiments were said, Haymitch went right back into commanding mentor mode.

"Lunch is in 1 hour. You will be there even if I have to drag you downstairs. I will make sure that you aren't hiding your food in your napkin either." He added. _Damn, so he did notice._

With his final statement, he left me to my thoughts and went to prepare lunch. I found it odd that Haymitch knew how to cook so well. Then it dawned on me, he had been living alone for over 20 years, he was relatively lean and well-fed, of course he knew how to cook. I started to look around and realized that I was in Haymitch's room. His window was covered by large, brown musky curtains, his desk littered with empty bottles of alcohol and next to his bed were 2 polished, oak picture frames. One picture was undoubtedly his mother and younger brother, their resemblance to him unmistakable. But the other picture was of a beautiful girl with long-golden brown hair, bright blue eyes and an innocent smile. She was definitely not from the Seam. _Was this his girlfriend?_ If so, what happened to her and his family? I realized that Haymitch knew so much about me but I had never given his own life a second thought.

"2 minute warning." Haymitch yelled out.

I got out of bed and headed downstairs. Whatever Haymitch made, it smelt amazing.

"Pizza." Haymitch said as he set down the round, cheesy bread with tomato-sauce. "I've picked up a few recipes from the Capitol here and there." Haymitch responded to my questioning eyes.

"I'm not hungry." Unfortunately, the sound of my rumbling stomach said otherwise. I felt myself begin to blush.

Haymitch smirked with a knowing smile. "Come on sweetheart, there's no need to lie to me."

Arrogant prick. I wanted to wipe that stupid grin off his face. "No, I guess lying is your area of expertise. Isn't it?" I spat back.

Haymitch turned red and a flash of guilt broke through his typical façade.

"Sit down and eat." he commanded in a less authoritative voice than usual. When I made no to attempt to move, I barely heard his whisper, "Please?"

Reluctantly, I sat at the table as Haymitch gave me a generous portion of the pizza. Haymitch looked at me expectantly and I knew I wasn't going to get my way this time. I picked up my slice and took a large bite. The taste was phenomenal, warming up my frail body and my stomach pleaded for more. Haymitch visibly relaxed and we enjoyed our lunch in a comfortable silence. When I had finished my third piece, feeling better and full for the first time in months, I dared a glance at Haymitch. For the first time since I could remember, he looked genuinely happy, a ray of hope glistening in his eyes.

Haymitch finally broke the silence, "So, pretty good for an old drunk, eh?"

I smiled, "I've had worse."

"Katniss, you suck at giving compliments."

"Don't flatter yourself." I rolled my eyes and he laughed for the first time since I'd returned home.

I couldn't help but join in and I suddenly felt so calm and more alive. We lightly bantered back and forth for the remainder of the day. Only touching on superficial topics, but nonetheless, I was finally glad for his company and I could see that he didn't want to lose me again. By nightfall I was completely drained, my body wasn't used to staying awake for so long. Haymitch was adamant that I start getting on a regular schedule and that I was to wake up by 9am, even if he had to drag me out of bed. I didn't argue, after all that's happened, normalcy seemed like a comfortable idea. I felt guilty for taking up his bed and making him sleep on the couch but he ignored my worries.

"Sweetheart, you're still recovering. You need to have a good sleep, not on some lumpy couch." He retorted.

Finally I gave in. Through his gritted teeth and sarcastic remarks, I could tell this was Haymitch's way of showing he cared. I was always an independent person since my father died and my mother faded away, but I liked having someone I trust work through the bad times with me. Haymitch was no angel, that's for sure, but he was here, he was bringing me back to life and I had never felt safer.


	4. Chapter 4

I was becoming stronger, healthier and a new person. The nightmares were becoming less severe and Haymitch helped me through the most painful ones. He'd coax me out of them by rubbing my back gently, whispering my name and helping me keep my grip on reality. I knew that when my seam-grey eyes met his, I was safe and my heart would slow down to a normal pace. I had put on 30lbs and was finally deemed a healthy weight. Although I fought Haymitch at first, I started taking the anti-depressants prescribed by Dr. Aurelius and I had weekly sessions with him over the phone. My dark, sunken face began to get back its youthful glow and even Haymitch now looked as fit and young as he could for his age and the years of alcohol taking its toll. For the first time since the Games, I was fighting and for once, the odds seemed to be in my favor.

As per suggestion of Dr. Aurelius, in order for me to open up and talk about myself and my past he thought that Haymitch and I could take turns asking questions about one another. For weeks, we asked interesting but meaningless questions. I told him that my favorite color was green and he replied that his was a deep blue. His description reminded of the girl in the picture, but personal questions were off the table, that was an unspoken agreement from the start. Haymitch and I had our differences, but we were both rather private people. We never went beyond superficial questions. Perhaps he was afraid that I would start to regress again. I worried that I wasn't ready to face my own horrors, or even his own. So for weeks we kept up our cheerful façade, bickering daily like we did during our games but never escalating beyond their light banter.

About a month since I'd moved in, Haymitch woke me up early one morning. I groaned when I saw that the sun hadn't even risen yet and the clock read that it was barely 5am. I threw him an annoyed look and tried to bury myself under the covers.

"Oh no you don't sweetheart. Get your butt up, we've got a lot to do today." I gave him the middle finger and he simply laughed.

"Well, it looks like your charm hasn't improved any." I ignored him but a moment later I felt myself slipping and fell with a loud thud onto the cold, wooden floor. Haymitch was grinning at me. That bastard flipped my mattress over.

"Fine, I'm up." I yelled.

"Good to know." he said sarcastically. Jerk. "Be ready in 10 minutes. Oh and dress warmly; it's the first day of fall." He called out.

I pulled on my woolen boots, put on some jeans and a t-shirt with a jacket. When I met Haymitch downstairs, he was standing by the door, holding a large and badly wrapped package.

"What's that?" I asked pointing to the package.

"Well, it's just something to show that I'm proud of you and all the progress you've made. And since it's your birthday and all…Well, here you go." Haymitch finished awkwardly. I grinned. Haymitch and I were never the ones who were good at small talk; that was always Peeta's forte.

I hadn't looked at a calendar in months and had no idea it was my birthday. 18 years old too, legally I was finally an adult. But because of the game and my losses, I felt like I had grown up a long time ago. I was surprised that Haymitch remembered, and even went out of his way to get me something. I admit, Haymitch could be a real jerk sometimes, but he had his moments too.

I tore open the package and pulled out a freshly made, flawless silver bow painted dark green. My favorite color. There were also 20 pristine white silver bows inside. How could he afford this? Ever since the Games ended, the victors stopped receiving money. By the looks of the quality, this bow had cost a fortune.

"Haymitch, I don't know if I can accept-", I started.

Haymitch cut me off, "Sweetheart, for once in your life can you just shut up and say 'thank you'?"

I smiled, "Thank you."

He nodded. "Right, well we're going hunting today. We need to get you out of the house more."

Hunting? It used to be a favorite pastime of mine, hours spent with Gale, shooting and catching food for our family or to trade in the Hob. Could I still do it or would it only bring back painful memories?

Haymitch sensed my hesitation. "Look Katniss, it's going to be hard no matter when you start. The first time is always the hardest, but I'll be there with you every step of the way."

I nodded and he led the way. "Haymitch, what are you going to do?

"What do you mean?" He countered.

"I mean, while I hunt, are you supervising or something?"

Haymitch scoffed. "What? You think an old guy like me can't keep up?"

I burst out laughing, "Wait, you're going to hunt? You?" I said condescendingly. He didn't even have a weapon.

"Don't underestimate me kid. I had to find food to eat in the Hunger Games too."

That statement sobered me. We hadn't breached the subject of the Games ever since he told me they were eliminated. We walked the rest of the way in silence.

My heart sped up as we stepped foot into my familiar sanctuary. I inhaled deeply, savoring the unforgotten sweet smell of the forest. Haymitch watched me curiously.

"Let's go old man! Try not to slow me down too much." I joked. Haymitch scowled good-naturedly.

I had to give the man credit; he was quicker than he looked. Also, his stealth was remarkable. Unlike Peeta who clunked through the forest despite his best efforts, Haymitch stepped expertly through the woods. After a few minutes, I caught sight of a large, brown rabbit. I crouched down onto one knee, aimed the arrow straight into the target's eye, inhaling and breathing out in a rhythmic pattern. Moments before I was going to let the arrow fly, a large knife swiftly soared through the air, catching the bunny in the head. Who the hell took my kill? I looked around and saw the only other person in the woods, Haymitch. He feigned innocence, "Oh, sorry sweetheart. Were you aiming for that?".

I rolled my eyes. He laughed as he went to gather his kill.

"Not too bad for an old man, eh?" He smirked.

"Yeah, yeah. But if you pull that stunt again, this arrow will end up through your hand." I said with as much malice as I could muster. Unfortunately, it wasn't much.

"Whatever you say sweetheart."


	5. Chapter 5

We spent the next couple hours, exploring the woods, hunting game and enjoying the natural sounds of the forest. He suggested we head back and I agreed. I hadn't realized how exhausted I had been. Haymitch waited for me to catch up, but I didn't notice the thick tree root sticking out of the ground. I tripped, stumbled forward and ran right into Haymitch, knocking us both over and landing on top of him.

Haymitch had broken the fall for me, but my body's impact definitely knocked the wind out of him. We both lay motionless trying to catch our breath.

"You okay?" Haymitch asked in a wheezing voice.

"Yeah." My head was rested gently on his chest and I could hear his heart beat getting back to normalcy. My hands were wrapped around his arms, the first thing I grabbed onto during the fall. I felt his strong, well-toned arms and chiseled abs rested beneath me. How did he manage to stay so fit? Even after years of drunkenness, Haymitch managed to retain a physically-fit body, befitting of a Hunger Games champion. I examined his prominent jaw line, slightly crooked nose that suggested it had been broken previously and the five-o-clock shadow stubble lining his face. Haymitch's eyes were closed, still regaining his breath. Without thinking I reached up and ran my fingers through the stubble along his face.

His voice pulled me out of my thoughts, "Katniss…", he lingered. I looked up at his seam-grey eyes. He had a wary and puzzled expression. "…do you think, you could get up?".

I suddenly realized that I was still lying on top of him and blushed; cursing myself for awkwardly caressing my mentor's face. What the hell was I doing? To make matters worse, I suddenly realized that our hips were both aligned, suggesting a sexual position. I blushed even more, mumbled an apology and quickly got up.

"I think we've had enough for today," he stated before heading back home. I followed behind. Did he mean enough hunting or whatever just now happened? No, he definitely meant hunting. There was nothing going on between us. I just had a lapse of judgment. Yeah, that's all. During the walk back I tried to keep my eyes locked to the ground, but my attention kept diverting back to Haymitch. Had I never noticed him before? Granted he was in his 40s and had aged roughly, but he had a gruff, attractive charm about him. I suddenly envisioned Haymitch, 18 years old, youthful and built, winning the Games.

Wait, where are these feelings coming from? Were they here from the start or did they slowly creep up on me? I mean, he's old enough to be my father. I was just being a hormonal teenager, desperate for some human connection and reading too much into our friendship. I tried to push the lingering thoughts of Haymitch out of my head and began to take in my surroundings. We were taking a different route home, one that went through the town center.

My eyes widened at the changes made over the past few months. The whipping post and stocks had been replaced with wells filled with fresh water. The Hob and various shops were bustling with more people than ever before. Goods and products from the Capitol and the other 11 districts were imported, wages had increased and with an abundant supply of food there was no longer the issue of starvation. The once dark and gloomy square had begun to shine with hope and the presence of life. Children ran around carefree, no longer a potential victim to the cruel world. Typical underfed Seam kids now had the same healthy glow and weight of the well-off Merchant ones.

"Thank you for your business." A familiar voice called out to a customer. I looked up and my heart stopped. Peeta.

No, not Peeta, but the resemblance was evident. About twenty years older, with the same blond hair, strong build and bright blue eyes that met mine. Just like Peeta's blue eyes that bore into mine, the day he saved my life by throwing me the bread. The same eyes that looked at me wide-eyed and full of fear moments before death consumed them. The fresh reminder of my past horrors loosened my already-weak grip on reality. Haymitch pulled me close when an involuntary, blood-curling scream escaped my lips. The last bit of my resolve shattered. (end Ch. 6)

Haymitch must have carried me, because I don't remember how I got back home. I was vaguely aware of him pulling out a large bottle of dark-brown alcohol, pouring generous amounts in to two glasses and handing me one. Without question, I downed the contents along with Haymitch and he refilled our glasses. After a few more drinks I felt myself begin to relax.

"His eyes, Haymitch. They were just like Peeta's." I sobbed.

Haymitch put his arm around me and pulled me close. I laid my head down on his shoulder, sprinkling his shirt with my tears.

"I know, sweetheart. We all have our triggers." He whispered.

"You should've saved Peeta. He shouldn't have died. It was your job." I spat angrily at him.

"I know sweetheart, I'm sorry. He's the one who deserves to be here, not me. He's the one you need." Haymitch admitted. "But I can't lose you too."

"Please, tell me it gets better." I raised my voice, growing hysterical. "Tell me that this pain goes away."

Haymitch rubbed my back in a comforting motion, calming me down. He breathed deeply.

"There are ways to try and forget. It gets easier over time, but the things we have both seen and done, that can never be erased." He said.

"Who is that girl in the picture next to your bed?" I asked. I immediately regretted my unexpected outburst, wishing to take the words back, but it was too late. I don't know what possessed me to ask. Perhaps it was the alcohol or the need to finally get to know Haymitch. Or, perhaps it was simply time for our superficial question game to come to an end.

Haymitch tensed, his fluid hand stopped rubbing my back and his eyes flickered with pain.

"I'm sorry." I sputtered. "I shouldn't have-"

"She was the most wonderful person I had ever known." Haymitch whispered. "Her name was Annabelle, and she was incredible. Beautiful, stubborn and a real piece of work, but just the kind of girl I needed. Someone that would put up with me."

"She's beautiful."

Haymitch smiled, "Yes, she could light up a room wherever she went." A strong urge of jealousy overtook me for a moment before I felt guilty for competing over Haymitch with his dead girlfriend. I could be a real bitch sometimes.

"What happened?"

Haymitch paused, closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "The same thing that happened to your family sweetheart."

We talked for hours, late into the night. He told me his whole tragedy, things he had probably kept to himself for years. How he cheated the system by using the force field to win, how his punishment was watching the ones he loved be killed in front of his eyes, how madly he was in love with Annabelle and the final night they spent together. Then Haymitch turned the questions on me and for once the answers came spilling out easily, finally ready to be released. I told him about Gale, the unlikely friendship that blossomed. The mine accident and how my mother faded away, just like I did before Haymitch brought me back and how I had risked my life in order to save Prim. Then we touched on the most delicate topic of all, Peeta. The baker's son, a boy who could mince words better than anyone I'd ever met. His delicate touch as he held me during the Games. His memories of me singing, the two braids I wore, how I shot the squirrels I sold to his father in the eye every time, and the only genuine person to never have been corrupted by the games.

"You know, he wanted to save you from the start. That boy loved you Katniss." Haymitch said.

"I didn't deserve him."

"You're wrong." I looked at Haymitch and he stared back at me with a serious expression. "Katniss, you deserve so much more than you know."

I stared hard at him. "Then, what do you deserve Haymitch?"

He looked away, his brow furrowed. "Nothing."

"Wrong." I mocked with a smile.

He remained silent, his forehead wrinkled with frown lines.

"Haymitch," I reached up to run my fingers through his silky blond hair. He grabbed my arm roughly and pushed it away.

"Katniss, stop." He pleaded, "This is wrong."

"Why?" I sobbed. I was drunk and emotional. "Why can't we be happy? Why do we always have to be the ones to suffer?"

Haymitch stared hard at the unlit fireplace. "I can't make you happy. I'll never be able to give you what you want."

"You're pathetic." I was getting angry now. He narrowed his eyes at me.

I continued, "You're so afraid to get hurt, to fall in love again, afraid to be happy."

"I'm not in love with you." He spat out condescendingly.

"I think you're just too scared to find out." I countered.

His eyes locked with mine, suddenly filled with rage. "You're a naïve teenager, I'm twice your age and you only want me because you're desperate and I'm all you have left." He shot back. I know he was only saying these things to push me away but they still stung.

I slapped him. Hard.

"Can't handle the truth sweetheart?" he said through gritted teeth.

The tears building up finally let loose. I ran out of the house back to my own forsaken one. I went to bed, crying into my pillow, feeling more alone than ever before.


	6. Chapter 6

We spent the next couple hours, exploring the woods, hunting game and enjoying the natural sounds of the forest. He suggested we head back and I agreed. I hadn't realized how exhausted I had been. Haymitch waited for me to catch up, but I didn't notice the thick tree root sticking out of the ground. I tripped, stumbled forward and ran right into Haymitch, knocking us both over and landing on top of him.

Haymitch had broken the fall for me, but my body's impact definitely knocked the wind out of him. We both lay motionless trying to catch our breath.

"You okay?" Haymitch asked in a wheezing voice.

"Yeah." My head was rested gently on his chest and I could hear his heart beat getting back to normalcy. My hands were wrapped around his arms, the first thing I grabbed onto during the fall. I felt his strong, well-toned arms and chiseled abs rested beneath me. How did he manage to stay so fit? Even after years of drunkenness, Haymitch managed to retain a physically-fit body, befitting of a Hunger Games champion. I examined his prominent jaw line, slightly crooked nose that suggested it had been broken previously and the five-o-clock shadow stubble lining his face. Haymitch's eyes were closed, still regaining his breath. Without thinking I reached up and ran my fingers through the stubble along his face.

His voice pulled me out of my thoughts, "Katniss…", he lingered. I looked up at his seam-grey eyes. He had a wary and puzzled expression. "…do you think, you could get up?".

I suddenly realized that I was still lying on top of him and blushed; cursing myself for awkwardly caressing my mentor's face. What the hell was I doing? To make matters worse, I suddenly realized that our hips were both aligned, suggesting a sexual position. I blushed even more, mumbled an apology and quickly got up.

"I think we've had enough for today," he stated before heading back home. I followed behind. Did he mean enough hunting or whatever just now happened? No, he definitely meant hunting. There was nothing going on between us. I just had a lapse of judgment. Yeah, that's all. During the walk back I tried to keep my eyes locked to the ground, but my attention kept diverting back to Haymitch. Had I never noticed him before? Granted he was in his 40s and had aged roughly, but he had a gruff, attractive charm about him. I suddenly envisioned Haymitch, 18 years old, youthful and built, winning the Games.

Wait, where are these feelings coming from? Were they here from the start or did they slowly creep up on me? I mean, he's old enough to be my father. I was just being a hormonal teenager, desperate for some human connection and reading too much into our friendship. I tried to push the lingering thoughts of Haymitch out of my head and began to take in my surroundings. We were taking a different route home, one that went through the town center.

My eyes widened at the changes made over the past few months. The whipping post and stocks had been replaced with wells filled with fresh water. The Hob and various shops were bustling with more people than ever before. Goods and products from the Capitol and the other 11 districts were imported, wages had increased and with an abundant supply of food there was no longer the issue of starvation. The once dark and gloomy square had begun to shine with hope and the presence of life. Children ran around carefree, no longer a potential victim to the cruel world. Typical underfed Seam kids now had the same healthy glow and weight of the well-off Merchant ones.

"Thank you for your business." A familiar voice called out to a customer. I looked up and my heart stopped. Peeta.

No, not Peeta, but the resemblance was evident. About twenty years older, with the same blond hair, strong build and bright blue eyes that met mine. Just like Peeta's blue eyes that bore into mine, the day he saved my life by throwing me the bread. The same eyes that looked at me wide-eyed and full of fear moments before death consumed them. The fresh reminder of my past horrors loosened my already-weak grip on reality. Haymitch pulled me close when an involuntary, blood-curling scream escaped my lips. The last bit of my resolve shattered.

Haymitch must have carried me, because I don't remember how I got back home. I was vaguely aware of him pulling out a large bottle of dark-brown alcohol, pouring generous amounts in to two glasses and handing me one. Without question, I downed the contents along with Haymitch and he refilled our glasses. After a few more drinks I felt myself begin to relax.

"His eyes, Haymitch. They were just like Peeta's." I sobbed.

Haymitch put his arm around me and pulled me close. I laid my head down on his shoulder, sprinkling his shirt with my tears.

"I know, sweetheart. We all have our triggers." He whispered.

"You should've saved Peeta. He shouldn't have died. It was your job." I spat angrily at him.

"I know sweetheart, I'm sorry. He's the one who deserves to be here, not me. He's the one you need." Haymitch admitted. "But I can't lose you too."

"Please, tell me it gets better." I raised my voice, growing hysterical. "Tell me that this pain goes away."

Haymitch rubbed my back in a comforting motion, calming me down. He breathed deeply.

"There are ways to try and forget. It gets easier over time, but the things we have both seen and done, that can never be erased." He said.

"Who is that girl in the picture next to your bed?" I asked. I immediately regretted my unexpected outburst, wishing to take the words back, but it was too late. I don't know what possessed me to ask. Perhaps it was the alcohol or the need to finally get to know Haymitch. Or, perhaps it was simply time for our superficial question game to come to an end.

Haymitch tensed, his fluid hand stopped rubbing my back and his eyes flickered with pain.

"I'm sorry." I sputtered. "I shouldn't have-"

"She was the most wonderful person I had ever known." Haymitch whispered. "Her name was Annabelle, and she was incredible. Beautiful, stubborn and a real piece of work, but just the kind of girl I needed. Someone that would put up with me."

"She's beautiful."

Haymitch smiled, "Yes, she could light up a room wherever she went." A strong urge of jealousy overtook me for a moment before I felt guilty for competing over Haymitch with his dead girlfriend. I could be a real bitch sometimes.

"What happened?"

Haymitch paused, closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "The same thing that happened to your family sweetheart."

We talked for hours, late into the night. He told me his whole tragedy, things he had probably kept to himself for years. How he cheated the system by using the force field to win, how his punishment was watching the ones he loved be killed in front of his eyes, how madly he was in love with Annabelle and the final night they spent together. Then Haymitch turned the questions on me and for once the answers came spilling out easily, finally ready to be released. I told him about Gale, the unlikely friendship that blossomed. The mine accident and how my mother faded away, just like I did before Haymitch brought me back and how I had risked my life in order to save Prim. Then we touched on the most delicate topic of all, Peeta. The baker's son, a boy who could mince words better than anyone I'd ever met. His delicate touch as he held me during the Games. His memories of me singing, the two braids I wore, how I shot the squirrels I sold to his father in the eye every time, and the only genuine person to never have been corrupted by the games.

"You know, he wanted to save you from the start. That boy loved you Katniss." Haymitch said.

"I didn't deserve him."

"You're wrong." I looked at Haymitch and he stared back at me with a serious expression. "Katniss, you deserve so much more than you know."

I stared hard at him. "Then, what do you deserve Haymitch?"

He looked away, his brow furrowed. "Nothing."

"Wrong." I mocked with a smile.

He remained silent, his forehead wrinkled with frown lines.

"Haymitch," I reached up to run my fingers through his silky blond hair. He grabbed my arm roughly and pushed it away.

"Katniss, stop." He pleaded, "This is wrong."

"Why?" I sobbed. I was drunk and emotional. "Why can't we be happy? Why do we always have to be the ones to suffer?"

Haymitch stared hard at the unlit fireplace. "I can't make you happy. I'll never be able to give you what you want."

"You're pathetic." I was getting angry now. He narrowed his eyes at me.

I continued, "You're so afraid to get hurt, to fall in love again, afraid to be happy."

"I'm not in love with you." He spat out condescendingly.

"I think you're just too scared to find out." I countered.

His eyes locked with mine, suddenly filled with rage. "You're a naïve teenager, I'm twice your age and you only want me because you're desperate and I'm all you have left." He shot back. I know he was only saying these things to push me away but they still stung.

I slapped him. Hard.

"Can't handle the truth sweetheart?" he said through gritted teeth.

The tears building up finally let loose. I ran out of the house back to my own forsaken one. I went to bed, crying into my pillow, feeling more alone than ever before.


	7. Chapter 7

That night, Haymitch carried me upstairs, exhausted from the day and gently laid me onto his bed. I reached out and grabbed him before he could leave. "Stay with me Haymitch."

He rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating. "Katniss, I-"

"Please?" His eyes bore into mine and he finally gave in.

"Fine. Let me grab a shower real quick." I rested my eyes and fell into a light sleep. The heat of his body woke me up a few minutes later as he lay down next to me. My eyes bulged slightly as I took in his naked torso. His toned biceps and chiseled abs were turning me on. I blushed slightly when I realized he was smirking at my reaction and raised his eyebrows in his typical cocky manner.

"Like what you see, sweetheart?"

I groaned. "Get over yourself Haymitch." I turned away from him.

I soon felt his strong, calloused hands massaging my back and lulling me back into sleep. "Good night Katniss." He whispered.

"Goodnight…" I slurred as I fell into a deep sleep.

A rumbling woke me up. I thought the bed was shaking hysterically, until I realized it wasn't the bed but Haymitch, trapped inside one of his horrific nightmares. His eyes were squeezed shut, his head shaking frantically and his unrecognizable, scared voice pleading "Maysilee…"

I placed one hand gently on his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat, the other hand smoothly running over his cheek in a comforting manner but to no avail. "Haymitch" I whispered. I tried shaking him awake but he only became more frantic. I started crying, feeling helpless and unable to help him. "Haymitch." I said louder. "Haymitch, Haymitch, HAYMITCH!" I screamed. Suddenly his eyes shot open. Searching around the room frantically until his eyes finally locked onto mine, his ragged breathing slowed down. The worry and fear start to dissipate from his eyes, soon replaced by recognition. He looked away in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to see that." He apologized.

I silenced him by placing my lips onto his. "It's ok." I laid my head gently on his chest, stroked his hair until we both fell back into a peaceful sleep.

Not much has changed over the past few months. Our nightmares have been few and far between, our fights fluctuate but the make-up sex is better than expected. Other people either pretend not to notice or don't seem bothered by our relationship, something I'm very grateful for. After the games, I'm tired of being in the spotlight.

We go hunting together almost every day, make frequent appearances in the Hob and talk with Mr. Mellark about Peeta whenever we have the chance. The scars are too deep to fully heal, but with Haymitch by my side I've never felt happier. We understand each other, for better or worse. He's put up with my hormonal needs and female moods while I tolerate his drunken antics. Admittedly, he has been trying to cut back and the effects are clear, some of his youthful looks coming back. After the honeymoon phase, the fear set in and I waited for the happiness of our relationship to inevitably end, both of us knowing that some things are too good to last. But even on the worst days, when I tried to push him away, he would always come back to me. One time he blurted out Annabelle's name while making love to me and I wouldn't talk to him for a week, but through his genuine apologies I finally let it go. Or when I dumped all of his whiskey down the drain, I had never seen such rage from him as he yelled menacingly at me to get out.

But Haymitch always knew where to find me. This hot-headed man was not Peeta; that was certain. But the more time we spent together, the more I realized that perhaps Haymitch is what I needed all along. Someone to knock me down a notch, cool my temper and put me back together. Because through it all, Haymitch has been here with me, trying every day; he's finally the one good thing in my life that hasn't left.

Each night as we curl up in bed, cuddling and listening to the soft heartbeats of one another, I fall asleep feeling safe and secure. Every morning I wake up, interlacing my fingers with his and asking with my eyes "_Will you stay with me?"_

Each day, his eyes meet mine to answer my question, "_Always._"


End file.
